Advice on an Impulse
by Dawn96
Summary: Belarus, conflicted about her feelings for a certain Lithuanian, seeks advice- or is it comfort?- from Hungary. Cold War era.


**AN: This has been sadly moping in my file on my computer for a while now. So, thought I, why not push it under the limelight? Read. Enjoy. Review :)**

**Advice on an Impulse**

Alone- she was in the empty room by herself, gloomily staring out of the window that was pelted with snow. She _clunked_ her forehead on the window, watching as her breath made mists on the glass.

The house was dull and she felt boredom seep into her like no other. Her rickety heater was diminishing amidst the iciness that it was better to throw it out of the damn window rather than take up the space of her small room.

The living room was even colder than her own room and the kitchen was already overtaken by the trembling Baltic states that were trying their best not to make any noise as they prepared dinner. She caught Prussia in his room with his stupid, annoying bird, then there was Poland… knitting. Ukraine was somewhere in the house- whenever she heard that familiar _bounce_ she knew her sister was nearby- and Russia was hidden away in his study, running over documents and different oppressing strategies- such as barring the windows- that would keep everyone rooted to this house.

"Ms Belarus."

She turned, finding a certain Lithuanian smiling by the door.

"Would you like some-"

"No."

She threw her forehead back at the window, wincing slightly from the impact.

"Then perhaps I should-"

"No."

She was entombed in a moment of small silence where she snuck a peak behind her, finding her door deserted. A spark of irritancy burst in her-

_That damn Lithuanian didn't know how to close the damned door!_

She stomped, seething, ready to slam the door so hard the whole house would shake-

"Here, I brought it to you just in case," Lithuania smiled, materializing by the door with a smile on his face.

In his hands was a tray with a bowl of soup, thick, creamy and steaming. Belarus blinked at the soup then up at the Lithuanian that was waiting for her to accept.

"Your room is quite cold- perhaps Estonia could fix up your heater if you want?"

She blinked once more, not knowing what it was she should do. Should she thank him, or simply take the tray from him with a small nod? She bit on the inside of her cheek, hovering by the door as he eyed her quite oddly.

"Ms Belarus?" he craned his head slightly, smiling.

She widened her door, stepping slightly to the side, her eyes not even looking at him. Lithuania stepped inside, walking towards the small table that was scrunched to the side by the window.

"It's quite beautiful today, isn't it?" he said, keenly looking out the window. "It's just like you."

Belarus felt something flame up inside her, a pulsing flush rising up to her roots. Her heart thudded a bit more forcefully that usual and there was a slight acidic churn in her stomach that was unbelievably uncomfortable on her empty stomach.

"You can get out now."

"Yes, as you wish," he said warmly.

She clenched her hands into fists- how could he be so damn happy all the time? Who did he think he was to throw around such comments when he knew- as clear as crystal- that it was her brother that she devoted herself to!

"Stupid Lithuanian!" she hissed.

All he did was smile at her, tell her please and thank you, asked if she wanted anything- and if she was anything short of rude he'd simply laugh as though she had just told him a good, friendly joke. The jerk! Then, there was her brother! When was the last time she had even seen him? Doesn't he want to spend time with her- it's been over a bloody week and he hadn't even spared her a glance!

She threw a heavy punch at the door, feeling the wood splinter underneath her knuckles.

She snatched back her hand, watching as small drips of crimson blood leaked out of the tiny scratches on her knuckles. If Lithuania was here, she'd bet he'd fish out some antiseptic and probably run them over her fingers with those slender ones of his. She felt a small smile pull up her lips before she fought it down.

Stupid Lithuanian.

She huffed it out and sat down on her bed, wincing as it gave a small shake, glaring at the steaming soup that sat by her window. She was _not _ going to waste her time thinking about _him._

...

Did he cook it?

"Argh!" she stood up once more, his fingers in a fist.

What was wrong with her? Since when did she start to think like this? She loved _Russia_. Not him- not that darn Lithuanian.

But… on the 'nicer' scale, Lithuania had definitely topped her brother on that.

Since when was this a competition?

Belarus dug her nails into her head- she wasn't thinking straight. Ever since he started knocking on her door, offering her dinner or company or whatever the hell he called it, he started to intrude her thoughts as well.

_Stupid Lithuanian!_

She just wanted to scream that out, pound on the door and shake him till his brain rattles in his puny head! It was not fair, whenever she thought of her brother, the Lithuanian would intrude or come along as a side thought. Whenever she did something, she'd wonder how the Lithuanian would've done it. Whenever she felt something, she wondered what it'd be like-

No, she blushed. She was not going to stoop that low.

But… it was something she had never experienced in her entire being- this… complexity in feeling. Never before…

She had always thought of marrying her brother- she made no secret of trying to break down his door with it- but now that she thought about, did she even know about the _caliber_ her words actually carried?

She eyed the slightly steaming soup that stood innocently by the window, waiting for her.

There was a small hunch- a small feeling- that made her subconsciously know where she needed to go.

She gripped the handle of the door and pushed it open, unhesitant, before fully stepping into the room. Hungary, who had been crouched on her small bed, shot up her head with surprise, eyeing her like a deer caught on headlights.

Blinking, Belarus felt the awkwardness in the air before slightly stepping back, shutting the door gently behind her. She brought her fingers up to the now closed door, knocking lightly on the wood. When she heard an uneasy 'come in' did she allow herself to open the door and let herself in the cold room.

Hungary was standing up this time, a small rag in her hands that she must've been fiddling with. Thinner and paler than she had ever seen her, Hungary's orange tulips lay abandoned and cold by the small table up against the wall.

Why did she even come here?

"Is there anything you want?" asked Hungary, "Ms Belarus." She added.

Belarus stood stationary, closing the door behind her, before walking towards the bed and taking a seat by the side, noticing how unstable the bed truly was when compared to her own. The room was empty- nothing but that table, a small, battered chair by the freezing window and the bed.

There wasn't even a heater.

There were a few cracks on the walls – but not a single speck of dirt or dust.

"Ms Belarus?" asked Hungary.

"Just Belarus," she said sharply.

"Fine then," nodded Hungary. "Belarus."

Belarus breathed in a sigh- she was never good with people. Never good with others. She bit at her lip, averting her eyes from the Hungarian that stood a foot away from her.

It must be awkward- Hungary must already think her unusual.

"You were married?" Belarus said sharply. "Right?"

She had always been direct- she didn't know what else to do. She would show her feelings and expect the exact result directly. But… that wasn't life, was it? People didn't like it when you suddenly poke them on the shoulders and expect them to smile and hug you.

Hungary did not shudder or glare, she merely slumped slightly. "Yes."

"But you divorced," asked Belarus. "Right?"

This time, Hungary did bristle up- tensing up from her neck sleekly down to her fingers that were stressed into fists.

"Yes."

This time she said it more forcefully- a definite warning for Belarus to stop right in her tracks… However, Belarus was not the type to stop at the warning sign and not prod at it.

"Was it because you did not love him?"

Hungary fixed her with a slightly belittling look with an unamused and definitely annoyed press to her lips.

"That's quite daring of you, to ask personal questions to someone you barely know," said Hungary.

Belarus looked down at her lap, something she had never done before. Was this how it felt when she slammed doors in Lithuania's face, or bit him off with a rude comment? She dug her nails into her fist.

"I…" she had never expressed any sort of feeling to anyone… but the unwelcoming Hungarian looked as though she would be as stubborn as a mule. "I just… I'm…"

She huffed, wanting to grate her fingernails against a wall from the sheer _tension_ and _unease_ she felt rampant inside her. Hungary stood, unrelenting, but the empty table by her wall, waiting.

"I'm…" Belarus kept her eyes at the window. "I'm… confused."

Hungary merely raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know… how I feel," Belarus licked her dry lips. "So… I came to ask- I thought… you could help."

"What about your sister?" stated Hungary, walking to the window that was pelted with snow. "What about Ukraine?"

"Ukraine wouldn't understand," sighed Belarus.

"Hm."

Her clothes were slightly patched and roughened at the edges and her fingers bony as they wrapped around her thin torso- not slim but _thin_. She had remembered seeing the girl with so much colour- flowers adjourning her hair, her dresses laced with vibrant colour and a large smile on her rosy face. Hungary remained quiet, wringing the rag lightly between her fingers and pulled at it from palm to palm.

"Was it because you did not love him?" asked Belarus, curiously awaiting.

Hungary turned away, her eyes definitely on the window.

"I don't know."

Belarus felt a buzz of annoyance in her chest. She didn't come all this way to meet defensive walls and vague answers.

"But you divorced him-"

"The First World War," cut through Hungary, "was hard on all of us."

Belarus leaned back, keeping the eye contact. The Hungarian was all tensed up, her fingers digging into the rag in her hand. It was only then that Belarus noticed the thick scars that run up and down the Hungarian's arms- coiling around like poisonous, dry snakes.

Her brother…

Hungary looked down at the rag, rubbing a finger over it.

"We couldn't even stay in the same room without screaming at each other."

The stiff pianist, shouting? For some reason, that picture did not suit. He always seemed like the sort to coldly sip tea and have his eyes glazed when he read into a book or simply went on playing the piano on and on…

"We'd argue at breakfast, lunch and dinner," Hungary threw the rag at the table. "From dawn till dusk… all I can remember was argument after argument… by the end of it we weren't even sleeping in the same room."

Only after a peculiar silence reigned over them, coating the room with an uneasy- _icy_- silence, did Belarus speak.

"So… you didn't lov-"

"It's not that simple," said Hungary. "Love isn't this definite straight line that you have signs that point at it and alerts that ring at your ears when you arrive. It's… it's the most chaotic- most cacophonous music you'll ever hear."

It was the way that her eyes lifelessly glazed over and a bitter smile grew on her pale lips.

"He had jerk years, I can tell you that," sighed Hungary. "He could be the biggest jerk on the planet but… sometimes I can remember a lot of the good things he used to do."

"Like?"

It was some sort of _hunger_ that Belarus felt inside her. She didn't notice it, but she was slightly leaning away from the bed, wanting to absorb as much of it as she could. Hungary looked slightly taken by surprise, but her expression softened slightly… Hungary could see, for once, that behind that cold mask, was a little, confused girl that knew next to nothing about her emotions.

Hungary sat by her, gently pressing on the rickety bed that bounced under them from the slightest touch.

"Ms- Belarus?' asked Hungary lightly. "Is there someone-"

"No!" Belarus stiffened and stood, her eyes wide and _scared._

Hungary blinked from the sudden movement before letting a small, knowing smile grow on her lips.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of- at the core of it, we're all human. We're supposed to feel."

"It's not-" she felt her tongue freeze in her mouth. "It's-"

She was here to get a direct answer and leave- not to sit her, tongue twisted and frozen with fear. Hungary stood up too, her thin, cold hand, resting on Belarus' own shoulder, a comforting- if not _pitying_- smile on her lips.

"Sometimes," whispered Hungary, "sometimes, when things go out of hand- when I think there's no more hope… I can hear his music, light and thoughtful, and it'd lull me to comfort. It's not because of anything- country pride or politics… but… because my human side wants that. Because my human side…"

"Loves him?"

Hungary shook her head. "I don't know."

"But you just said-"

"I don't love him," she said, her voice slightly cracked. "There's too much bitterness to love. There's too much distance- too much separation."

"But- you said that you listen to him-"

Hungary gripped her by the shoulders, making the Belarusian look her in the eyes.

"As a human, I need him. He's a part of me- for four hundred years, no matter how much blood has been shed on either side, no matter how much bitterness- anger or misery's between us… he's part of my life. A huge portion of it… and times goes on," she said. "It'll be the memories that kill you- memories that'll purge you until you just run back."

Belarus tried to digest that- tried to soak it in and process it in her mind that was running through with thoughts.

"What about Prussia?"

She had seen them together- countless times- huddled by a fire when the raging snowstorms came, or sipping cold cabbage soup in the dark emptiness of the kitchen late at night. However, Hungary laughed aloud- her voice suddenly much more _alive_ than it had ever been before. A slight health had come back to her cheeks and a slight stability gripped her voice.

"Prussia's a friend- just a friend. An infuriating one at that, but… he's a close friend, nothing more nothing less."

There was a feeling of loss that she felt inside her- though she felt her question answered, she felt it on the borders of unanswered as well… it was like stepping on murky, thick liquid- not solid enough to have you stand on yet not thin enough for you to sink through.

Belarus stood up, sharply nodding to the Hungarian before making her way briskly to the door.

"If you need anything… you can always come again," said Hungary, a small smile on her lips.

For a moment there, she seemed almost… sisterly.

Belarus felt the small tugs of a smile on her lips- not cold or malicious- but light and warm, before stepping out of the room and gently shutting the door.

Only when Hungary made sure that the Belarusian's footsteps faded did she walk towards the small table that was scrunched against the wall. She picked up the white 'rag' and smoothed it out, letting her fingers run through the small creases. She pressed it against her nose, smelling nothing but the dull cloth-

No.

Right there.

There was the faint scent of life- the same scent that used to remind her so much of _him_. Holding Austria's cravat in her hands, she wondered what keys his fingers would be dancing on… and if he even played for her again.

* * *

**AN: There isn't any history behind this- at least, I don't think there is...- so I just wanted to play around with the characters. Plus, I always wanted to see how Hungary and Belarus would interact with one another in the midst of the Cold War (Head-canon says all the Soviet dominated countries lived together in one house) so... they're bound to speak to each other at one point... o.O **

**Hope I didn't make Belarus too calm...  
**


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